


Lavellan Vallas - A Honest Retelling - The Beginning

by ehProudCanadianWriter



Series: Lavellan Vallas - A Honest Retelling [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Complicated Relationships, Dalish Issues, Diary/Journal, Dragon Age: Inquisition Spoilers, F/M, Fluff, Multi, POV First Person, Retelling, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Trespasser DLC, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-30
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-27 08:40:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7611220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ehProudCanadianWriter/pseuds/ehProudCanadianWriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the world seemed to be falling apart, a young Dalish mage was left alive and became the fabled Herald of Andraste. Although there can be no denying the grandeur of the tales floating through the taverns, only one work speaks to the truth of it all. Written by Athenvera Lavellan herself, the work you now possess has allowed readers an intimate insight into her world and the people who populate it. Although Varric Tethras' "All this Shit is Weird" provides a compelling and lavished epic, Lavellan Vallas provides something far sweeter and humbling - the story of the young inquisitor from her own eyes. (One cohesive narrative found in series - set as codex style).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BlackSkyandRoses](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackSkyandRoses/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Lavellan Vallas is a sponsored project affiliated with the University of Orlais. Professor Sauveterre and her team in the study of Dalish Lore endeavour to preserve and archive the fragmented diary of Inquisitor Lavellan and study the inner workings of the Inquisition during the Mage-Templar War (9:37 Dragon), the Divine Conclave, the Breach and the War of the Lions (9:41 Dragon). This project can confirm the authenticity of the original texts and assure that all texts have been left unaltered. This collection is dedicated to Divine Victoria as a show of unconditional support to the Chantry and its new divine.

I wish I were more knowledgeable and that I had more to tell you aside from my life. I don't have any grand understandings of the world or even really know what is happening to me. I am not a politician, spy, or economist but I know how grand a story like mine can become. I don't blame the bards or the storytellers who take pieces of our tale and turn it into legend. As one of the _Elvhen_ , I know how important legends and history can be and to have it fruitlessly discarded would only lead to havoc and heartbreak. However, I know the blessing of a truthfully woven tale, without whispers of creative dalliances or a intricate flare of misspoken words. Before I returned to Haven, people were already calling me the Herald of Andraste, a title which hardly sat well with me if I can be honest. Andraste stood with my peoples many years ago but such stories rise and fall. We elves rose and fell with them, leaving us either within the alienages of nearby cities or traveling the wilderness, reminiscing and remembering the days of prosperity as opposed to seeing such times ourselves. To be called to act as her voice, to act as her herald whether in truth or glory, I don't know if it's a task I'm up to but I cannot do nothing. That is why you're reading this now. If I am to be part of this mess, the history of the breach and the Inquisition, the last thing I want is to be remembered through someone else's voice. Whether the voice was that of Andraste, another bard, or a writer, I at least wanted to leave my own voice -- somewhere... maybe..

I'm not entirely sure what to call this. A report sounds far too formal and a diary too private. To call this work a tale, legend or epic would put too much weight on what I have to say. I'm not a writer by any stretch of the imagination so a memoir or autobiography  sounds too professional and also implies I know the ending to this- whatever this might be. I doubt this will have an ending or that anyone will really see it at all. It does not take an Orlesian mathematician to know that my odds of survival are not astounding  and I intend to keep this book on me so- if I burn to a crisp or something, no one will find this anyway. Right now, I suppose I'll call it my _vallas..._ as no name really suits it any better.  I will try my best to keep a truthful record of what I experience and if this book does survive somehow, I hope it provides some level of insight into whatever happens.

My name is Athenvera Lavellan of the Lavellan clan. I was a first to our keeper Istimaethoriel and I suppose by the standards of many, I am an apostate mage. I don't believe I am mythical, legendary or ordained and I didn't think that when I was sent to the conclave - though I'm sure now some believe I am. I was sent to the conclave to listen and to learn as a first is meant to do. When I awoke with the mark- I didn't remember anything with the exception of fear and a woman...The woman was reaching out to me, a Dalish mage, and somehow that was how this all began.

(Below there are sentences that are scratched out and illegible. Only a few small lines can be seen through the dark pencil smudges:

_Tel'enfenim, da'len irassal ma ghilas  
Ma garas mir renan-- ara ma'athlan vhenas._

The rest of the page below the phrase is blank).

 

* * *

_(Likely Unneeded Translations):_

  * _Elvhen -_ Elves
  * Vallas - writing
  * _Tel'enfenim, da'len irassal ma ghilas_  
_Ma garas mir renan-- ara ma'athlan vhenas._  
  
_Never fear, little one, wherever you shall go.  
__Follow my voice-- I will call you home._  
(Excerpt from Mir Da'len Somniar - a Dalish lullaby)



**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed the work and will explore the others in the series. If you're interested, here are some of the others in the collection you can check out:
> 
> Frosty Whispers, Sacred Peaks - http://archiveofourown.org/works/9810404
> 
> Please! Leave a comment or a kudos if you enjoyed the work or have constructive criticism. I write to improve so please help me do so! :)
> 
> This work acts as my version of the Lavellan inquisitor storyline and therefore will follow the story of the game Dragon Age: Inquisition. There will some variances from the game but widely, it will follow that narrative. For this reason, and due to the huge amount of Dragon Age fanfictions, I'd like to note that I have not intended any crossovers between any other fanfic. Any similarities are accidental and I apologize. If there are any issues, please feel free to let me know! I'm happy to rectify the situation however I can.


	2. After the Conclave Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth comes out about the Herald's first hours after the conclave explosion. The Herald Athenvera discussed her awakening in chains as a hostage of the faith and her introduction to her companions Cassandra, Solas and Varric.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Plot driven exposition

Allow me to take a moment, recalling to you what has happened to me up to this point... as I find a lot of the stories do tend to be incorrect. Most of what I've heard about myself so far talk in depth about what I saw after the explosion, while I apparently wandered the fade. The way the bards tell it, it seems to shift with each telling. Some like to paint it as ominous as they can, filled with demons and the darkest curiosities of the fade, only for me to be saved by Andraste. Some paint it almost as a pilgrimage, that I somehow entered the fade with the explosion of the temple and found myself in the Black City. They say I walked the halls but was sent back to return the world to some sort of Chantry ordained godliness. I wish I could tell you the truth - to really explain what happened to me before I fell out of the rift. Honestly though, I don't know what happened. Even still, I don't have many memories of what happened after the explosion. Even my memories leading up to the destruction of the conclave have become detached. All I can remember is the darkness and a heaviness I could never properly put into words. It wasn't a heaviness in the air but a weight upon my soul. It felt as though a lining of iron lay just beneath my skin, tempting my body to bend beneath the weight. Even that doesn't seem to do the memory justice. I still feel the weight in my sleep at times, threatening to pull me beneath the earth.

As for the woman, I do remember her but the only way to describe her would be to say that she was cloaked in beautiful and reassuring light. If she was Andraste, well, I don't know. In my head, I always thought it might be Mythal. I suppose those who saw the woman behind me would assume she was whoever was most holy to them. Nothing about what has happened makes any sense... Magic and spirits do tend to complicate things. I've never had it in my heart to correct them- to try to persuade people that the figure was indeed Mythal and not Andraste as they believe. There are those who see Andraste and I as a vision of hope in a world gone amuck. Some see me, a Dalish elf, and already have their reservations. To bring in Mythal would only complicate matters and when the Inquisition is attempting to do good -- well it would only be cruel to undermine them.

Still, as I think back on that memory - on the woman's hand as it reached out for mine - I can only feel a gentle warmth tingling beneath my _vallaslin_. I feel as though someone is tracing it, redrawing it as the keeper had done. Truly, I haven't felt such a warmth since it was placed upon my face in the first place - the vines of Mythal gently beneath my eyes. Although it was painful, I do fondly remember the warmth of the pain which lingered after the keeper had finished. It was a proud moment for me and I felt as though Mythal had given me her blessing... to be a first, to be our keeper, to be one of her people. It might not make sense to those who have not had such a moment but when I think upon that glowing woman, Mythal's presence in the fade all but makes sense to me. Sadly, that is the best that I can do.. I will have to leave that up to the keepers and the divine to decide.

As for what came after, well- I suppose I should start at the beginning. When I awoke after the conclave I was in chains, bound in a dark and disgusting cell block. Several small torches seemed to illuminate the room but was not the only source of light. The anchor sparked furiously and violently, bringing an ominous green glow which briefly filled whatever crooks the torches could not. The smell of the moist air and rat droppings were the first thing I was able to register clearly and if it had not been for the dizziness and pain from the anchor with its vibrant outbursts, it might have even caused me to gag. When I stirred, the door swung open forcibly and it was then I met the first of my companions.

Cassandra Pentaghast was the first and it would be foolish to say that she did anything but strike a fear into my core when I saw her. There had been a moment when she was simply illuminated by the light which shined behind her and all I could feel was my confusion and fear at the darling silhouette. When the torches' light shined upon her face, I stared in bewilderment at her scars - my mind racing as to how she might of acquired them. The second was Leliana, cloaked in mystery and chainmail, silently nesting herself to watch as Cassandra began to circle. Both seemed ruthless but contained, like the low rumbling snarl of a mabari before the final snap of its jaw. Both were emblazoned in some way with what I came to learn was the 'watchful eye' and they were indeed truthful to its name. Questions filled my mind of every variety. Where was I? Who were these people? Why was I in handcuffs? What had happened? Although they were quick to answer some questions, I was left to dwell with others.

"Tell me why we shouldn't kill you now. The conclave is destroyed, everyone who attended is dead... except for you."

Cassandra had spoken with such a disdain that the words burned their way through the air. I was at her mercy and although it was clear I was her prisoner, I felt the weight of her words more heavily than the shackles. Everyone had died... everyone? My first thoughts went to my clansmen... the ones who had been sent with me to study the conclave. Within my haze, I couldn't remember where they would of been. I didn't remember much honestly. Leliana was quick to stop Cassandra when the Seeker went to assault me at my dismayed silence, perhaps to end my life, but her interrogation was filled with the same distrust and skepticism. Looking back upon the encounter, I can't blame them. I was a Dalish mage poking my nose where, in their mind, I shouldn't be. Although I couldn't believe that I was responsible for the breach, I couldn't tell them with certainly I wasn't a part of it somehow. With the anchor on my hand anything seemed possible, even the worst of the nightmares and the destruction of the world.

I tried to plead with them and truthfully told them of my ignorance to the conclaves' destruction but neither seemed particularly swayed. "Is there any news of any Dalish at the conclave?" I asked, but my question was met with silence. Both stepped away, mumbling to each other which only spurred my worry further. When I looked down at my hand, I was faced with a sight that was both mesmerizing and horrific. The embers of the anchor seemed to slip between my fingers, a daring and terrifying blend of lightning and fire cloaked in a green hue seeping from my skin. At the time, it all seemed so unreal. Well, it still does even now. Looking at my hand when the anchor is active only revitalizes my confusion... but now, it also sparks my curiosity more than my terror. When Leliana left and Cassandra came to my side, I was able to catch the shape of her features. She was the tempest itself or at the very least, that is what she seemed to me. She unlocked my cuffs, causing me to pause. "Please, tell me what happened?" It was the only thing I could think of to say.

Her eyes rose to mine as she slipped a small rope around my wrists, tying a knot tightly to secure them. "It would be better if I showed you," she responded.

As foreboding as her words were, nothing was more alarming than when I first saw the breach. She had led me outside into the winter snow and the wind but the sky was filled with shadows and overcast. It took me only a moment to follow the shadows and my eyes settled upon it. The breach was massive and cataclysmic and I could feel my heart simultaneously jump into my throat and go still. Much like the mark on my hand, the breach swirled with a magical energy. Massive collections of earth and stone swirled near the entrance and were held in suspension miles above the ground. I felt my blood run cold as a collection of bleeding stars fell from the gaping hole and fell towards the earth, screams seemingly chorusing their arrival. The only thing that was able to draw my attention was Cassandra as she explained the breach. She was unable to keep my attention for long... that was when the pain began again.

When the breach pulsed, I felt a shock of fire sear its way through my flesh and bone. All I could do was scream in agony as a response... Looking back, it was as if the breach was speaking to me in a language I could only understand with pain. It sounds dramatic now... but I have never felt anything more painful- before or since. Cassandra was sure that something could be done to save my life and to close the breach. Although I could feel the water pooling in my eyes from the pain, her determination spurred me. Had it been anyone else, anyone who did not have such a strong resolve to lean upon, I don't know if I would have gathered the courage to go back towards the temple. Although I was scared of Cassandra initially, it was that fear and her resolute stare that pushed me. I volunteered to go with her and to do what I could, even if it proved to be futile.

I followed her for a stretch, fighting off demons who were pouring from the valley in droves. It was amidst the snow and rifts that I met Solas and Varric. A dwarf and an elf fighting against the fade monsters with a handful of soldiers seemed like a strange sight at first. It was Solas who taught me how to seal the rifts, who had far more knowledge than I about anything to do with what had happened. Grabbing my hand, he thrust it towards the rift and with the gesture, the rift was sealed. It was awe inspiring. "The magic which created the breach also put that mark upon your hand," he had told me, "it seems you hold the key to our salvation."

The formality of his words and the finality of it all had caused my breathe to hinge in my chest and I knew there would be no escaping it. If I was the sole person with the anchor, there would be no way to stop my involvement. I was still a prisoner, likely to be carted onto life endangering missions as a slave to another religion's providence and the safety of Thedas... I remember thinking of my ancestors then and questioning my servitude. The possibility of my future captivity was unnerving, to say the very least. Although this might sound bleak for the so called Herald... do not misunderstand me... knowing I can do some good eventually made everything easier and now, I've accepted my part in this- insanity. I don't wish the end of the world upon anyone. I just- felt very helpless at the time. The world was going to be swallowed whole and in that moment, I felt as if the universe as silenced me... silenced us all to oblivion. I was- terrified. I shifted my attention back to Solas, who I thought was a city elf due to his lack of _vallaslin._ He projected a knowledge of the world which so readily surpassed by own. Although wise and polite, there was a distance to his demeanour that lingered in his gestures and wit. He struck me as a man who could be a friend in the darkness, but could so easily slide into it and disappear forever. Varric, on the other hand, was a very different story.

The dwarf's charisma and his charm seemed to be exuded even amongst the blood and demon viscera which were strewn across the ground. With quick humour and banter seemed to ease the situation and even brought a hesitant smile to my face. I would learn once things had settled that he was the famous Varric Tethras - a famous storyteller and witness to the workings of the world. My clan, in their trade with the human settlements in the northern Free Marches, had acquired several copies of his works and to meet him caused the smile he inspired to linger. My keeper had loved Hard in Hightown and I suppose that familiarity drew me to Varric. Still, even with my fears of Cassandra's rage and her suspicions, Solas' aid and his mystery, and Varric's confident complacency, I did not feel like a hero. All I could feel, even as we walked together towards the valley, was the pulse of the anchor and what felt was the undeniable truth- that I would die before the hour's end.

**Author's Note:**

> This work is dedicated to my darling friend BlackSkyandRoses who revived my interest in the Dragon Age series. <3 
> 
> This work acts as my version of the Lavellan inquisitor storyline and therefore will follow the story of the game Dragon Age: Inquisition. There will some variances from the game but widely, it will follow that narrative. For this reason, and due to the huge amount of Dragon Age fanfictions, I'd like to note that I have not intended any crossovers between any other fanfic. Any similarities are accidental and I apologize. If there are any issues, please feel free to let me know! I'm happy to rectify the situation however I can.


End file.
